Fair Catch: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

“Are you just going to set a new PR every time you play a game?” Gavin teased me one evening in late September, his grin mischievous on my laptop screen. “First, twenty-two yards. Then, twenty-nine against Rochester. And now, thirty-one against our rivals?”

I smiled through the mounting pressure that came over me with every stat he recited, eyes falling to the neon highlighters and flashcards on my desk. “Don’t get used to it. That last kick… it was almost a miss.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No, but—”

“It wasn’t,” my twin repeated, waiting until I met his gaze on the screen before he continued. “You’re playing damn good, sis, and you know it. It’s okay to be proud of that.”

I sighed. “I don’t know why… I’m mostly scared of it.”

“That’s normal.”

“Doesn’t feel normal. Zeke doesn’t seem scared of anything. None of the other players do, really.”

“Zeke is a mutant. And every other guy feels the pressure just like you do whether they show it or not. Trust me.”

I nodded, but the motion felt weak. The season was in full swing now, and with three wins under our belt and our second home game coming up this weekend, I somehow felt more sick than relieved by our record — and mine. I hadn’t missed a field goal or extra point yet.

But I knew I couldn’t keep that up forever.

And I wondered if the team that had slowly started accepting me would toss me out into the snow once I failed them.

“No one is perfect in football,” Gavin said, as if he were reading my mind. “Not even Tom Brady — though he’s pretty damn close.”

I tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I’m just glad you’ll be in the stands for this next one. I’ll need you there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Gelato in the North End after?”

“Duh.”

Gavin smiled. “Alright, get back to studying. I expect all A’s on your report card this semester, missy.”

I gave him a sweet smile and a strong middle finger before cutting the video off, and then I flipped over to the tab with my study guide on it, sighing as I got back to work.

Mid-terms were just around the corner, and for the first time in my life, I was struggling with school. The content itself wasn’t bad, but the amount of work piled on top of my already full athletic schedule was taxing. I was glad to have the dorm quiet and a full night to study with a late report for practice in the morning.

At least, it was quiet — until the front door swung open and Zeke waltzed in with an entire fucking parade.

My bedroom door was shut, but the walls were paper-thin, and I heard a mixture of voices from the team and those of girls I didn’t recognize. They stumbled into the living room, laughing and talking loud enough you’d think they were in a crowded bar instead of an empty dorm. I didn’t know what annoyed me more, the deep bass of the guys’ voices, or the incessant giggles from the girls.

Music blasted from Zeke’s room in the next instant, and I sighed, yanking my top drawer open to retrieve my headphones and hastily shoving the earbuds in. I preferred silence when I studied, but lo-fi would have to do.

I had to crank up the volume to an insufferable level in order to drown out the noise coming from the living room, but even then, it was no use. Bursts of loud laughter or thumping like they were fucking wrestling would break through the calm beats in my earbuds, and I found myself reading the same paragraph ten times and still not retaining anything.

It’s fine, I tried to tell myself. Just block out the noise like you do during a game. Focus on what’s in front of you. Don’t blow up. It’s fine.

But when there was another loud thump against my wall and a chorus of laughter, all attempts at calm went up in the smoke billowing out of my ears.

I ripped my earbuds out, stomping over to my door and yanking it open.

All the eyes in the room snapped to me, the girls mostly shocked and confused by my presence in a football dorm, no doubt, and the guys from the team already amused before I could speak my annoyance.

“Could you all keep it down, please?” I asked through gritted teeth as politely as I could manage. “Trying to study.”

Zeke peeked out from the kitchen, where he currently had shot glasses lined up and a bottle of Fireball Whisky perched beside them. I noted that there were only seven shot glasses but eight people, and through my annoyance I idly wondered if Zeke still didn’t drink.

He’d sworn off alcohol after that night of the accident, but I never thought that vow would last — especially not in college.

His eyes widened a bit when he saw me. “Oh, shit… you have that test coming up.”

The fact that he remembered that I’d been stressing about this exam and still brought a crowd of people over to our dorm on the only early night and late report morning of the week made my blood boil more. I tried to cool myself before I spouted off a rude response, but I couldn’t help it.

“Yes, and unlike you, I actually have a chance of graduating with a degree. So, if you could take your party somewhere else, that’d be great.”

I was already on my way to shutting the door again when Zeke’s brows furrowed, and he jogged over, his hand shooting out to catch the door before I could shut it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Not all of us have pipe dreams of being in the NFL and have put all our eggs in that basket. Some of us actually have aspirations off the field.”

“And you don’t think I do?”

“What are your grades right now?” I probed, crossing my arms. “I haven’t seen you open a textbook since we got here. You sleep through half your classes. Have you even started on that Econ paper that’s worth seventy percent of your grade?”

That shut him up, all emotion leaving his face as he stepped back and removed his hand from the door.

“That’s what I thought. Now please, leave or keep it down. This is my dorm, too.”

I shut the door before he could respond, ignoring the chorus of oooohhh’s that came from the guys and the girls asking what my problem was and calling me a bitch. I couldn’t care less what any of them thought of me — least of all Zeke’s groupies.

I sat down at my desk, blowing out a breath and putting my headphones in again. Just as I finally read and comprehended the paragraph I’d been stuck on for ten minutes, the music in the living room got even louder, and some sort of chant broke out before I heard the distinct sound of glass breaking.

I ripped my headphones off again, letting out a scream I was certain they wouldn’t hear over their stupid partying. Then, I grabbed my bag off the hook by my closet and started shoving everything on my desk inside it, tossing it over my shoulder in the next instant and storming out of my room.

“Ah, you finally decided to join us?” Ramirez joked, trying to put his arm around me as I passed him. But I shoved him back, readjusting my bag as I reached for the front door handle. I jerked it open, pausing long enough to pin Zeke with a murderous glare.

He just smirked, tipping his plastic cup toward me.

I bit back the urge to growl and shove his head into the nearest toilet, slamming the door behind me instead and fuming all the way to the library.

Zeke

The NBU library smelled like rotting wood and mildew, but then again, I imagined every library more than a hundred years old to smell that way.

I wrinkled my nose at it, wondering how anyone could study in here as I passed tables full of students doing just that.

There was something oddly comforting about it, I supposed — the low lighting, the shelves and shelves of book spines soothing in their own way. I wondered if Riley loved it in here, if it gave her the same kind of joy a museum did. I certainly had never had a fun experience at any museum I’d visited. Then again, I’d only gone on school field trips, where I spent most of the time either fooling around with my friends or trying to find a corner to make out in.

I circled the entire bottom floor before heading up to the second, where I found Riley tucked away in the east wing corner with her headphones on, laptop open in front of her, flashcards and highlighters and pencils sprawled out around her. Her brows were bent in concentration until the moment her eyes flicked up to where I’d stopped in front of her table, and she sighed, shaking her head and looking at her laptop again.

“Go away, Zeke.”

“Shhhh. Don’t you know this is a library? There are rules—”

I stopped mid-sentence when she tapped the butt of her pencil against her right earbud, giving me a sarcastic smile that said I can’t hear you, asshole, nor do I want to.

Frustration warred with a smile I couldn’t contain, mostly because as much as I hated that her spitfire was always aimed in my direction, it didn’t make me respect it any less.

With a shrug, I pulled the chair across from her out and plopped down into it, pulling out my phone. I opened Instagram and scrolled mindlessly, waiting for her attention.

She glared at me. “Seriously? Go away.”

“It’s a student library and I’m a student. I’m allowed to be here just as much as you are.”

When she ripped her earbuds out on the next huff, I knew she, in fact, could hear me. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to sit at my table when there are a dozen more up here. Besides, what about your little party?”

“It wasn’t a party.”

She scoffed.

“It was just some guys from the team, and they wanted to hang out with you, too, by the way.”

“Oh, right. And I’m sure all those groupies wanted the same, especially judging by their lovely pet names for me.”

She pinned me with a sarcastic glare and purse of her lips as I remembered how Jaylie and Victoria had called her a bitch. She must have missed how I defended her the next instant and warned them that if they said another word about her, I’d kick them out.

“I’m sorry about them,” I said honestly.

Riley rolled her eyes, but before she could put her headphones back in, my hand jutted out to stop her.

“And I’m sorry about how I treated you, too.”

She stared at me a moment, and then her eyes fell to where my hand was wrapped around her wrist.

I released it, sitting back.

“I forgot about your exam,” I said. “Honestly. And I just wanted to blow off some steam before tomorrow’s game. I thought you might want the same, and figured you’d join us for a couple drinks. It wasn’t meant to be an all-night thing. All the other guys are already back at their dorms, too, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“You got even louder after I asked you to tone it down,” she pointed out. “And don’t pretend like you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Oh, I did,” I confessed. “But only because of what you said.”

Her face wrinkled in confusion, and then she sucked her teeth, waving me off. “Please. Don’t try to blame this on me now, especially because I know there’s no universe that exists where I could get under your skin with a stupid comment about your scholarly activities.”

“But you did.”

She looked like she was going to argue again, but her eyes met mine, and she must have seen the sincerity there. Her eyes softened, lips pressing together in a thin line.

“You did get under my skin. Not just tonight, but every time you make comments like that.”

Her little brows tugged inward, but then a shield of stone slid over her again. Before she could rebut that I deserved it, I beat her to it.

“And it’s because you’re right.”

Riley frowned, finally dropping her pencil to the table as she sat back and folded her arms. “I’m right?”

“You’re right,” I repeated. “I’m not a good student. I don’t have any talent outside of football.” I swallowed, pausing. “I’m a stupid fuck, but it drives me insane when anyone points it out.”

Riley sighed. “You’re not—”

“Don’t try to take it back now,” I warned.

A moment of silence passed between us, and I ran a hand over my fade, blowing out a long, slow breath.

“I wanted to upset you. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me,” I confessed. “So, I turned the music up more and I broke that empty bottle after they took their shots and I shoved Ramirez right into your wall hard enough to shake the whole dorm. I wanted to piss you off.” I shook my head. “And the moment I succeeded, I felt even worse than before.”

The corner of Riley’s mouth pulled to the side, but she didn’t say a word.

I wanted to tell her how much she infuriated me, how all I wanted was to smash whatever bullshit was still simmering between us from something that happened years ago and be friends. I wanted her to know how much I stuck up for her when she wasn’t around, wanted her to realize that I was her friend whether she wanted me to be or not.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

I wasn’t sure there would ever be a time for that.

Maybe that was the hardest thing to reconcile with — that I’d lost her friendship forever.

But at least she was listening, even if just for the moment.

“When we were kids, I was always over at your house,” I said, eyes on my fingertips where they rested on the oak table. “Gavin was my best friend, so of course I just wanted to hang out with him, and with you,” I added, eyes flicking to hers before I was staring at the table again. “But it was more than that. You ever notice that I never invited you guys over to my place? Did you ever think to ask why?”

Riley considered. “I guess I never did.”

“It was because my house didn’t feel like a home the way yours did. It felt like a factory, or a mine, like thousands of years of pressure building with the hope of pushing out a single diamond.”

I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t believe I was saying any of this out loud at all. But I wanted her to know why those comments she made rubbed me raw, why they activated the part of me nothing else could.

“I love my parents, and they love me — fiercely. They love me the way I imagine anyone in their position would love their only child, one who was hard fought for after not one, not two, but three miscarriages before me.” I swallowed. “They both had terrible childhoods, survived awful situations, and then found each other on the other side of it all. They built impressive careers for themselves. I mean, you already know — Mom as a physician assistant, Dad as the owner of an automobile shop — and they had big dreams for me, too.”

I smiled, though my heart felt heavy in my chest.

“But they’ve known for a long time, since I was very young, that school wasn’t my thing.” I swallowed, not able to put the name on it that could easily help her understand. “It took me longer than other kids to talk, to read… so, they put me in sports. In football,” I clarified. “And for the first time in my life, I showed promise.”

I cracked my knuckles, smiling a bit at the memory.

“With the discovery of that talent came immense pressure. My whole life, Mom and Dad made it clear that I was to excel at football. They were already making plans of how I’d go pro when I was twelve. Twelve,” I repeated, shaking my head. “And when I was younger, I loved it. They were at every game, they were invested, and I just thought it was this special thing I had with my parents. I felt lucky to have their attention like that, especially when so many other kids never had their parents in the stands.

“But as I got older, that pressure mounted. If my grades dropped too low to play, I’d feel Dad’s wrath. If I messed up on the field, I’d feel it, too. Mom tried to be supportive no matter what, but the truth is she had the same expectations for me. They made something of themselves. They wanted me to do the same. And if school wasn’t my forte, if football was all I had… she expected me to be damn good at it.”

It was like bleeding out in that smelly old library, how those words just continued to leak out. But as much as they hurt… I was happy to be rid of them.

“I started drinking in high school, played around with some drugs when I was offered them.” I shrugged. “Anything that could take the edge off, that could bring me a little relief… I wanted it. But then, it’d only work against me, only disappoint my parents more.” I swallowed. “Like the night of the accident.”

Riley stiffened at that, but I continued.

“I’ve let them down more times than I can count, all because… what? Because they see what’s best for me and want to help me achieve it? Because they know what I’m capable of and push me to be the best? I should be thanking them. But I…”

I swallowed, coming up short on how to finish the sentence before I pivoted.

“Don’t get me wrong. I fucking love football. It’s everything to me. But I think that’s just it,” I said, finally meeting Riley’s gaze. “It’s everything to me. You’re right. I’m not smart. I don’t have any idea what I’ll do if the NFL doesn’t pan out. This is it for me, Novo.” I held out my hands. “Football is all I have. And most of the time, I love that. But sometimes,” I confessed. “It scares the ever living shit out of me.”

Those words hung between us like jellyfish in shallow water, an ever-buzzing threat. I could feel their tentacles sparking like electricity with every breath I took, but I didn’t have another word to speak.

Finally, Riley sucked in a long, slow breath, and let it out just as calmly. Her eyes flicked between mine, and she swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t realize how…”

She bit her cheek, the sentence stifled.

“You know I’m just ribbing you when I say stuff like that,” she decided on instead.

“No, you’re not.” I called her out. “Maybe when we were younger, that’s all it was. But not now.”

She looked down at her fingernails, neither confirming nor denying, but we both knew. Things like that used to be a tease from her. But after that night that changed everything… she wanted to hurt me.

I couldn’t blame her.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “You don’t owe me some grand apology, or any apology, really. I just…” I shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”

Riley nodded, and though it wasn’t much, she unfolded her arms where they’d been crossed over her chest, leaning in a little more. It felt like a small truce, like the bones of a very fragile bridge being built over a chasm that’d been between us for years.

“And for the record,” she said, voice low. “I don’t think you’re stupid. If you wanted to get your degree, you could — easily — with just ten percent of the effort you give to football.”

“Nah,” I said, winking at her. “Sounds boring. I’d rather be in the NFL with a mansion and a dozen dope ass cars.”

Riley rolled her eyes, but we shared a smile that eased the pressure off my chest.

The little wrinkle between her brow was just as deep as it had been when I’d first come in and found her studying. I chewed my cheek, surveying the dark circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped.

“You know, I’ve been noticing you changing up your steps a bit in practice this week,” I said. “I’m not trying to put my nose where it doesn’t belong but… you seem a little stressed.”

Riley frowned. “I’m fine.”

“I know everything has picked up. A few wins under our belt… that can be intimidating. If you ever want to talk about—”

“Fuck off, Zeke.”

I bit back my smile, shrugging. “Just offering to help. The mental side of sports can be harder than the physical.”

“I’m fine. Just need to study.”

She picked up her pencil, and for a moment I thought she was just going to get back to ignoring me, but she paused, tapping it against her laptop.

“I really am sorry, for what it’s worth,” she said, her eyes meeting mine again. “But truthfully, I don’t think my offense is anywhere near yours.”

My stomach bottomed out at her words, at the way she looked at me when she said them.

I struggled past the knot in my throat. “You’re never going to let me live that night down, are you?”

“Why should I?”

It was a valid question, and all I could do was nod, not sure if I had the right answer.

“Riley, that night… I—”

“Awwww shit, what do we have here?!”

Gavin’s voice interrupted me, and both Riley and I snapped our heads in his direction as he wheeled over, his grin growing wider by the second as he looked between us.

“Are my sister and my best friend finally getting along again?” he asked, wheeling up next to Riley and putting his hand on her shoulder as he covered his chest with the other. He really played it up, like a proud parent at a graduation as his eyes looked between us.

“Hardly,” Riley answered quickly, shrugging his hand off. But her eyes slipped to mine, and a small smile replaced the usual frown I was used to. “Took you long enough to get here,” she commented next.

“You texted me like a half hour ago, and I wasn’t expecting to leave my dorm. Excuse me if I needed a shower,” Gavin said. But then his attention was back on us. “I certainly didn’t expect to find you here, too.”

Those words were directed at me, and Riley interjected before I got the chance.

“Trust me — he wasn’t invited.”

“Ah, but he hasn’t been kicked out yet, either, has he?”

Gavin gave his sister a look that she just waved away like he was grasping for straws.

“This is cause for celebration,” he said, ignoring her. “This,” he continued, holding up one finger. “Is cause for pizza.”

“Now that is an assessment I can get behind,” I declared, pointing at him.

We both looked at Riley next, who frowned, looking longingly at her textbook and laptop and the array of study supplies surrounding her.

With a defeated sigh, she smiled and closed her computer.

“Oh, what the hell. Who can say no to pizza?”

Gavin threw a fist in the air with a whoop, already wheeling around and talking a hundred miles an hour to me about a girl in his psychology class as his sister packed up her things.

I listened intently, but my eyes were on Riley.

And my mind was on how one little conversation somehow felt like the biggest win of the season.